Cameron Lee is a man of rigid boundaries. In Manhattan's elite circles, everyone knows his "no-touch" policy. For five years, I was the only exception—the wife who held the keys to his world. Until I didn't. For the third time, our wedding anniversary comes up as an "incorrect password." I have no choice but to call him. "Cameron, your tablet is acting up. You need to take it to the shop tomorrow." A playful, high-pitched voice answers the line. "Mrs. Lee? Oh, I'm so sorry! I was playing games on the CEO's tablet in his office yesterday. I may accidentally changed the password to my birthday." I freeze for seconds, then hang up. When Cameron returns home that night, I toss the divorce papers onto the coffee table in front of him. He rubs his temples, his face a mask of pure irritation. "Why are you being so petty with a young girl? She's inexperienced. What's your excuse for being so immature?" I let out a cold laugh. "Then go spend your life with her and her 'inexperience.'" Cameron leans down, picks up the papers, and tears them into shreds without even glancing at the terms. He drops the confetti into the trash, his gaze ice-cold. "Rebecca, you're becoming completely irrational." "I'm done discussing this, Cameron Lee," I say, my eyes void of any warmth. "Our marriage was always a strategic merger. We have no emotional foundation. A clean break is the only way out for both of us." My heart feels like it's being pierced by a thousand invisible needles. It's true that we were a business alliance, but over five years of living together, I had unknowingly fallen for him. But what does love matter now? There's always a first time, and then a second. If I pretend nothing happened this time, what about the next? And the time after that? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life swallowing my dignity? Gracie Day's words today were a blatant act of war. Everyone in Manhattan knows that Cameron Lee doesn't let women get close to him. He's obsessed with his boundaries and personal space. When he was twenty, a maid's daughter thought she could play a game. She took advantage of his drunken state after a gala, loosened his tie, and tried to frame a scandal to secure her future. In the end, he had both her hands broken before throwing her out of the Lee estate. She was never heard from again. Cameron has a severe "no-touch" policy. For years, I was the only exception. I was the only one allowed to touch his personal items—his tablet, his phone, his laptop. Even if I wanted to check his messages, he would just ruffle my hair with a tired but indulgent smile, telling me not to stay up too late. Well, from today, that privilege expired. The warning bells are screaming, and I need to cut my losses before I sink any deeper. ... A suffocating silence stretches across the living room. We are in a deadlock. He knows my temper. He knows I don't tolerate a single grain of sand in my eye. On our wedding night, I told him clearly: if he ever found someone else, I would step aside. No drama, no clinging. Back then, he held me so tightly I thought he'd merge me into his own skin. He told me we were a perfect match, a pair made by fate. He said that even without "love," we could grow old together. He didn't mind my touch, and I didn't mind his. Compared to the useless, cheating playboys of the Upper East Side, I preferred him as my husband. For five years, we were the golden couple of the city. Every joint venture between the Lees and the Powells was a massive success. Three months ago, on Cameron's birthday, I told him I wanted a baby. He had stroked my tear-stained face, moved by the intensity of the moment. "Rebecca, are you sure?" I had sobbed, wrapping my weak arms around his neck. I still remember that second—the flash of light in his dark, narrow eyes. Before I drifted off from exhaustion, something warm and wet dropped onto my face. Then, he pulled me into his broad, warm chest. "Becca... thank you."
The memory snaps, and I force myself to bury those beautiful moments. I push down the bitterness rising in my throat and sharpen my voice. "Cameron, I want a divorce." Long minutes pass, and Cameron remains silent, offering no reaction. I've always hated his silent treatment. I turn around and head upstairs to pack my things. Half an hour later, as I'm dragging my suitcase toward the door, Cameron finally moves. He blocks my path with his arm. "Rebecca Powell, you're throwing away a marriage over the password of my tablet?" It's been a long time since he called me by my full name. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. "Yes." His frown deepens. Maybe he's thinking about the baby in my womb, because his tone softens slightly. "Rebecca, let me explain." I don't plan on giving him another chance, but I'm curious to see what kind of lies he'll spin. "The girl's project pitch passed the board of directors. She didn't want a bonus. She told me she hadn't played games in a long time and asked to use my tablet for a few rounds. So I agreed. The password has been changed back. It was a minor thing, Becca. I've already talked to her, and she knows she was wrong. She even said she'd come by to apologize to you in person." "Be the bigger person. Don't make things difficult for a girl who just graduated. I promise, I won't have any contact with her outside of work." I catch the hidden meaning immediately. "Cameron, you're already protecting her? Do you see me as some malicious, jealous wife now? You two are 'innocent,' I'm the one being unreasonable?" "Becca, that's not what I meant." I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "I don't care what you meant. I'm getting this divorce. As for the baby... I haven't decided yet. But don't worry, even if I have it, I won't use it to blackmail you." I leave it at that, pushing past him and walking out of the villa. The staff are terrified, none of them daring to stop me. I take an Uber back to the Powell estate. I expected my parents to support me once they heard the story. The reality is the exact opposite. My father, Josh, chainsmokes one cigarette after another. "Rebecca, it's not that we don't want you to be happy, but our business relies entirely on Cameron's investment. If you divorce him, he'll divest, and the Powell Group will be underwater by morning." My mother, Lailah, wearing an expensive face mask, scolds me for being ungrateful. "Cameron has been wonderful to you. He's a provider. Don't be impulsive and hand him over to another woman on a silver platter." Even if he did have a little fun on the side, there's no such thing as 'true love' in the elite world. Marrying into the Lee family was the luckiest thing that ever happened to you." It all boils down to one word: profit. Over the years, my father's poor management has brought the company to the brink of bankruptcy multiple times. Cameron saved it every single time. I thought I would be devastated. I thought I would scream. But I feel nothing. I look at them calmly and ask, "So, what do you want me to do?" Josh crushes his cigarette in the ashtray. "I've already texted Cameron since you arrived. He's on his way. Go back with him and be a good wife. Stop running home every time you're upset; it makes us look like a joke." Lailah chimes in. "Listen to your father, Rebecca. We only want what's best for you. Ah, also, Leo has his eye on a piece of land owned by the Lees. Make sure you mention it to Cameron. Ask him to do Leo a favor." There it is. The reason I was raised as a bargaining chip was Leo Powell. My brother. The Golden Child.
Cameron arrives in ten minutes. His usually perfect hair is slightly messy, a rare sign of haste. He ignores my resistance and grabs my hand, offering my parents a polite, apologetic smile. "This is all my fault. I upset Rebecca." My father immediately tells the butler to bring out the best tea leaves. My mother insists on cooking dinner herself to keep Cameron for the evening. And I'm just... there. A ghost in the room. No one cares how I feel. Just like that, I'm back in the car, heading back to Cameron's villa. Before I leave, Mom pulls me aside and mysteriously hands me a small bottle of pink liquid. She claims it's a "miracle" for marital intimacy. "Men stray not just because of the other woman, but because the wife fails her duties. You're pregnant now, and Cameron has needs." "Listen to me, Becca. This potion will make him obsessed with you again, and it won't hurt the baby." Instead of taking the bottle, I look at her like she's a complete stranger. We share the same blood, but today, I finally see her for who she really is. Seeing me frozen, she forces the bottle into my hand. On the other side of the lawn, Dad is frantically trying to light a cigarette for Cameron. Cameron refuses. "Dad, second-hand smoke isn't good for a pregnant woman." Josh laughs awkwardly. "Right, right. My mistake." The scene is absurd. ... A few days later, Cameron hires a therapist for me. The therapist claims my "irrationality" is just hormonal shifts from pregnancy. Cameron returns to being the attentive, perfect husband, treating me with such care that I almost wonder if the fight was just a bad dream. But I'm not fooled by the staged sweetness. The coldness and impatience he showed that night left a scar that won't heal. Every time I feel a phantom pain, I'm reminded of the truth. I can't act like everything is fine, so I mostly give him the cold shoulder. As long as I don't mention divorce, Cameron doesn't get angry. He thinks I've been "tamed." He has no idea that I've already booked a one-way ticket to New Zealand. I'm leaving him in a week. I'm leaving Manhattan. I'm never coming back. Not for him, and not for my parents. I'm done being used. I've also scheduled an appointment to terminate the pregnancy. It's tomorrow. But Cameron is keeping a tight leash on me. Even when he's at the office, he has bodyguards following me. I can't tell if he's protective of me or just the heir in my belly. The next morning, I do something out of character: I make him breakfast. He's visibly surprised. In five years, I've rarely stepped into the kitchen, let alone made a full spread tailored to his tastes. After he finishes eating, I tell him I'm going for a prenatal check-up. He reaches for his phone. "I'll push the morning meeting to the afternoon." "No need. I can go by myself." I take the initiative to help him straighten his tie. "Cameron, I'm not a child. I don't need you or the guards breathing down my neck. Go to your meeting. I'll call you if I need anything." Cameron looks down at his perfectly knotted tie, then at me. After a moment of hesitation, he nods. Before he walks out, he reminds me a dozen times to be careful. Then he adds, "Becca, come home early after the check-up. Gracie spent half her salary on a gift for you. She's coming over tonight to apologize."
Watch? https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202607028jsj8a4yAx ? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "Novelix" app ? search for "ni802301", and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix